He frowned, obviously unsure what to make of her abrupt about-face. “If that’s what you want to do.”
“It is.” The words sounded heavy.
“Very well.”
For the next fifteen minutes, he inundated her with facts about the area, the aftereffects of the 1953 earthquake and other interesting tidbits about the island. Brooke responded with nods and polite smiles when he paused to see if she was listening. Eventually, he ran out of things to say and they headed back down the path. They had to walk single file until they reached the road. Once they got there they strode side by side without speaking. When Nic’s villa was less than a mile away, to Brooke’s surprise, it was Nic who broke the silence.
“About this morning.”
“Please don’t,” Brooke murmured, expelling her breath in a
weary sigh.
“I was wrong to kiss you,” he continued, either not hearing her protest or ignoring it. “I’m sending you mixed messages and that isn’t fair.”
“It was my fault. I shouldn’t have intruded on your sleep and thrown myself at you. Most men would have taken advantage of the situation. You showed great restraint.”
“Nevertheless.” His frown indicated he wasn’t happy she’d taken the blame. “I haven’t been fair to you. If I’d told you from the start who I really was, you’d never have developed feelings for me.”
Brooke couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d chased this man for five years, teased him, flattered him, poured her heart out to him and received nothing in return until six months ago when he’d kissed her. He’d kissed her. She hadn’t plunked herself onto his lap and tormented him the way she’d done the day before. In fact, she hadn’t even flirted with him that night. He’d been the one to draw her away from Glen’s party and kiss her senseless.
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“You haven’t.” She wasn’t upset with him. She was disappointed in herself. How could she have been such a fool for so long? “If I hurt right now it’s because I didn’t listen when you told me over and over that we weren’t right for each other. I created my own troubles. Your conscience should be clear.”
She walked faster, needing some space from Nic. He matched her stride for stride.
“Is this some sort of ploy—?”
She erupted in exasperation. “Get over yourself already. I’m done.” She gestured broadly with her arms as her temper flared. “You’ve convinced me that it’s stupid to keep holding on for something that can never be. So, congratulations, I’m never going to ask you for anything ever again.”
Her anger wasn’t reasonable, but at that moment it was the only way to cope with her deep sadness. She couldn’t cry, not yet, so she took refuge in ferocity. This was a side of her she’d never let Nic see. She always kept things light and fun around him. Even when she showed him her temper, it was followed by a quicksilver smile.
Right now she had no lightness inside her, only shadow.
Nic caught her arm to slow her as she surged forward. “I don’t want us to end like this.”
She was not going to say nice things so he could ease his conscience about her. “End like what? Me being upset with you? How do you think I felt a month ago when you told me that sleeping together had been the wrong thing to do?”
“I was wrong not to tell you the truth about what was really going on.” The intense light in his eyes seared through her defenses. “I’m sorry.”
Unbidden, sympathy rose in her. Brooke cast it aside. She didn’t want to accept that he was as much a victim of circumstances as she. With a vigorous shake of her head she pulled free and began walking once again.
“What happened isn’t fair to either one of us,” he called after her. “Don’t you think if I could choose you I would?”
She swung around and walked backward as she spoke. “The trouble is, you didn’t choose me. Nothing is really forcing you to go home and make this huge sacrifice for your country. This is your decision. You feel honor bound. It’s who you are. It’s why I love you. But don’t blame circumstances or your family’s expectations for the choice you are making.”
Leaving him standing in the middle of the road, Brooke ran the rest of the way back to the villa.
Six
Nic lay on his back, forearm thrown over his eyes. Moonlight streamed into his room like a searchlight, but he couldn’t be bothered to close the shutters. A soft breeze trailed across his bare chest, teasing him with the memory of Brooke’s fingers tantalizing his skin this morning.
The regret he’d been trying unsuccessfully to contain for the past twelve hours pounded him as relentlessly as the Ionian Sea against the cliff below the villa. Any sensible man would have taken Brooke to bed rather than inflict on her a long sightseeing adventure to busted-up windmills. Instead he’d rejected her not once but twice this morning, and then disregarded the pain he’d caused.
She’d eaten lunch by herself on the terrace and barely spoken to him during dinner. When she did speak, her tone had been stiff. He didn’t blame her for being upset. Any apology he might make would’ve been way too little and far too late. But he’d been relieved when she’d escaped as soon as the dishes had been piled in the sink.
He gusted out an impatient breath and sat up. Sleeping without the benefit of too much alcohol had been hard enough before Brooke arrived. Knowing she slept thirty feet away made unconsciousness completely impossible. Hell. It used to be that if he couldn’t sleep, he would work. That outlet was lost to him now. Still, he hadn’t yet looked at the forty emails restored to his inbox. Maybe a few hours of technical questions would take his mind off his problems.